


Homes Run On Ups and Downs

by Yngvildr the Voracious (Yngvildr_the_Voracious)



Series: McHanzo Week 2016 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Child raising, Day 2, Disagreement, Domesticity, I couldn't chose so there's a lot of domesticity tropes, M/M, McHanzo Week 2016, Sign Language, Sorry Not Sorry, finding balance, or rather cowplates throwing, plate throwing, you're my hero dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yngvildr_the_Voracious/pseuds/Yngvildr%20the%20Voracious
Summary: Life is made of compromise, of realising and owning up to one's mistakes and apologies.Routine is just background noise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want it in the tags because I don't want to scare off people as it is short and almost immediately stopped, but the plate throwing part can be considered domestic violence. I do not myself condone domestic violence. In this fic, the violence is being recognised as it is by the plate thrower and he apologised and it never happened again. 
> 
> Domestic violence isn't right. Neither are other abuses that are more insidious since there aren't any obvious signs. 
> 
> This story is heavily based on my own experience (except for adoption, we also never threw plates, we go to great lengths to avoid that so it's usually clothes or pillows) sprinkled with some tropes (adoption, yay)

Hanzo had once been a married man. 

 

It wasn’t exactly romantic. They met at university. A background check had ensured she was suitable for the heir of secret clan of assassins. Hanzo thought her pretty and took it as a bonus. She was calm, demure as a wife™ should be, but with hidden qualities, such as backbone when it came to sharing chores, choosing a job she liked as opposed to a  _ proper occupation  _ and a sense of humour that sometimes had Hanzo knocked out, trying to breathe in between peals of laughter. Basically, everything the heir of the Shimada clan needed plus certain things Hanzo needed himself after days spent managing a business of death and blood. 

 

They had of course rented a small appartment for themselves, as was proper and decorated it with taste. Once a year, since the only  _ flaw _ Masoka had had been her Christian mother, they indulged the mother in law with a garishly lit up Christmas tree when she visited around the month of December. 

 

Wife and Husband had made it a yearly tradition to set it on fire the day after Satou-san’s visit while drinking copious amounts of sake while Masoka told tales of agonisingly long and boring family reunions for the Christmas Midnight Mass in the tiny prefab building that served as the local Catholic church. 

 

Jesse couldn’t be more different than Masoka. 

 

First, they had not met at school, but in a reformed paramilitary peacekeeping organisation. They had saved the world and each other multiple times. Masoka had never known of Hanzo’s legacy or activities as an assassin until he came back home, haggard, bloodied, confessing Genji’s murder and his appartenance to what basically amounted to a school of long forgotten martial arts with an evil philosophy  _ slash _ yakuza clan.. 

 

Jesse, though cold and cordial upon meeting the one who had attempted to kill a dear friend of his, his own kin at that, had not avoided him and filed a divorce a week after. It was an endearing quality. The ability to function and stay civil with someone you disagreed with. Or hated. For a long while, Jesse had been Hanzo’s only ally, despite being cool and detached when speaking to him. Probably because they had crime and regret in common. 

 

Hanzo remembered their first kiss. Jesse’s own confession. It came after a long months of pining. It was easy to feign friendship at the time when they didn’t touch. Then, they had found themselves alone watching a movie in the rec room after a particularly wearying mission. After having lived this sweet defining moment where they had gone from allies to something more, it was hard to believe it had taken so much time for them to confess their love with more than kisses and caresses.

 

Had Hanzo ever said I love you to anyone? He didn’t think so. He didn’t love Masoka and Masoka never loved him. They were just a good match. 

 

Jesse and Hanzo were an horrible match. They only ever agreed in the choice of the house itself. 

 

The moment had been magical. They had passed the door during the visit and Jesse had suddenly put his arm around Hanzo’s waist and excitedly whispered words like “fine as frog hair”, “airy”, “some gardenin’” and “wouldn’t mind christening that bathroom with ya”.

 

Still, despite the fond memory and the more than suitable choice of dwelling, Hanzo was readying himself for a fight for each new piece of furniture they would acquire. After all, the man wore plaid.  _ Plaid _ . Hanzo would never be caught wearing one of Jesse McCree’s shirts, even by the man himself, that was for sure.

 

_ I love him. _

 

Forty five years old and finally, he could say these words and not feel like he was lying through his teeth. He even felt content to say them. As if a dam had finally broken in him and released the stagnant waters that made up his heart and feelings. He felt better for it. At peace. 

 

The best part of any day was waking up. Hanzo was a light sleeper and an early riser, so he would often open his eyes in the morning, stare at the white wall for a second and turn around after trying to guess in which position Jesse had found himself in. Guessing right would give him thrills that, depending on Jesse’s state of dress (or undress), would lead to the growing of his desire. 

 

Hanzo often woke Jesse up in the morning with sweet kisses and caresses. Jesse often joked about it, saying he had found himself a living alarm clock. 

 

“At least with ya, I know I’ll never waste sunlight.” he would drawl before Hanzo messed up his tangled hair in retribution for making him act and feel so far from his usual stoic and collected self. 

 

Even Genji told him so. Hanzo Shimada, formerly heir of the illustrious ninja school and crime syndicate of Shimada, utterly smitten and wrapped around the little finger of a former gang member lowlife that had seen one too many western movie.

 

Masoka would totally write one of her mangas about it. Actually, didn’t she have something about a cowboy already?

 

If Jesse deplored that the third room on the first floor had become a haven of yaoi and bara manga, he didn’t say a thing. 

 

She did have one about a young japanese employee taking a much needed sabbatical and spending it on a ranch, falling in love with the cowboy running it. Hanzo smiled as he read it. This did not look like his relationship with Jesse at all, but he could hear Masoka dramatically exclaim  _ This, I have foreseen! _

 

What she had not told her ex-husband, though was, if Hanzo had been given free rein over the library, Jesse was about to start a fight for the bedroom.

 

“What exactly is this?” Hanzo asked. 

 

“Well, since you took care of making the third room a library, I thought I’d take care of the bedroom.” Jesse answered. 

 

The walls were a rather pale shade of yellow Hanzo did not really mind at first. He’d just rather had them stay white. Maybe make it a bit paler than the original cream colour. Jesse had taken advantage of Hanzo’s day away at work to move the old salvaged Overwatch issued furniture, bland military grade things, and replace them with wooden or wood colored closets and night tables.

 

It was… Surprisingly  _ tame _ , considering Jesse’s usual tastes. (Like plaid). The decorations weren’t too gaudy, there were no carvings of cows or ears of wheat or even guns… 

 

Still, Hanzo  _ did not like it. _

 

“Hey, honey? Are you alright?” Jesse asked. “Don’t you like it?”

 

Hanzo looked at Jesse. His worried brow crease had chased away the hopeful gaze, the one Jesse often had when he was looking for approval after a job well done. 

 

For the first time since they had met, Hanzo wanted to lie to Jesse. How did one lie to the person they loved?

 

“It’s… Appropriate.” Hanzo answered. “The bed is… And the end table seems… Above all, the wardrobe looks...”

 

Jesse’s face closed little by little as Hanzo tried to sing the praises of Jesse’s choices in interior design. 

 

However, the yellow was too blinding. It covered each wall and even Jesse’s pants. He had been at it all day, then, to give every layer of paint the time to dry. He had worked for this. For them. 

 

“Why yellow?” Hanzo asked, staring at the wall. 

 

“Well, it’s warm like the sun, airy like an open field, rich like gold, though I didn’t dare take something too bright, since you like black and whites so much. I kept it toned down…”

 

Compromise. Another endearing quality. 

 

“Also… Your head ribbon…”

 

“What ribbon?” Hanzo asked, he didn’t quite catch Jesse’s meaning.

 

“Y’know, the one you tie your hair with, hun...” he answered, taking a step toward him and softly reaching for his hair. 

 

His fingers went through his hair and, soft, delicate, more than they had the right to be, they deftly untied Hanzo’s hair silken scarf, hiding the black elastic holding his hair together in a ponytail most of the time. 

 

“My sash, you mean.” Hanzo said, smiling as Jesse brought the piece of fabric to his eyes with a smirk. 

 

Hanzo reached for Jesse’s hands. Suddenly, when he looked at the walls, he didn’t see bright yellow neons flashing, pressing at his sides, making the room smaller. The pastel had become more than just tasteful. It was thoughtful. 

 

“I love you, Jesse.” Hanzo blurted out. 

 

“And I you, sugar!” Jesse exclaimed, his smile widening and his lips coming down to softly press on Hanzo’s.

 

They made good use of the bed, relishing in each other’s mingled breaths. And of course, since he had set the tables, Jesse had no trouble retrieving the appropriate supplies needed to finally christen that bedroom, making Hanzo’s smile turn predatory upon seeing the familiar bottle. 

 

*

**

*

 

Jesse was proud of himself. He was sated after having spent a whole day working on the bedroom. Waking up a bit hazy after the previous activities, he stretched in the empty bed, yawning wide enough to make a car fit. 

 

Or other things, Jesse snickered, thinking of last night. He couldn’t believe he got away with the  _ tacky  _ furniture. Well, he did compromise and chose them as plain as he could, though he did not budge on wanting to see and feel real wood around him. 

 

Jesse wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream in the pillow.  _ I love Hanzo Shimada and I love decorating our home. _

 

Taking a deep breath, he figured he should get up. Hanzo was not in bed watching over him like a hawk, meaning he was probably in the kitchen preparing them a nice breakfast. 

 

Their living room was still furnished with Overwatch standards, faded blues and steel accents. Jesse thought, since this was supposed to be a space shared with guests, he could let Hanzo have his way and keep his black and white theme. Jesse was a rather outdoorsy guy, he’d take care of the garden alright. 

 

The sudden noise of a plate crashing on the floor snapped Jesse out of his reverie. (Tomatoes would be perfect with this weather…)

 

“Honey?”

 

“What. Is. This.” Hanzo snarled, holding a plate on level with his murderous eyes. 

 

_ Oh no. _

 

“That’s… Just something I picked up at the store while looking for a good bed frame...” Jesse confessed. “That’s nothin’... And I paid that with my own money, so I’d be thankful if…”

 

He only ducked another white plate adorned with cartoonish cows at the last minute. 

 

“Sugar, please, I didn’t mean to use them everyday…”

 

“When did you plan to use them?” Hanzo retorted in a snarl that was reminiscent of the hiss and the roar of two dragons Jesse did not want to see right now. “When we would receive our friends, I suppose?”

 

Jesse took a full minute to realise this was an actual question. 

 

“Err… Well… Sure, I guess.” he answered. 

 

He didn’t quite manage to dodge the next, damn that man and his unnatural aim, and yelped at the pain blossoming on his thigh. 

 

“You hit me!”

 

“I hit you with your horrible plates!” Hanzo retorted, sounding extremely harsh, before he suddenly dropped the one he had been preparing on the pile of leftover dinnerware and walked up to Jesse, who looked at Hanzo, trying to ascertain exactly what the hell had just happened. 

 

Hanzo frowned. Jesse had last seen him like this on the day they met. Close off, walled of. Behind the guilt he felt at killing his own brother. Well, Jesse thought, that was something.

 

“I’m sorry. I should not throw objects around.” Hanzo apologised. “Especially at you.”

 

“It’s alright baby. I accept your apology.” Jesse told him, taking his hand, hoping they would quickly get past this. 

 

“You’re also barefooted.” Hanzo noticed. “I will fetch your slippers.”

 

Jesse wasn’t quite used to Hanzo’s insistence that he wore slippers at home, he honestly always forgot to put them on after he entered home. Thankfully, Hanzo was particularly lenient with this, thank the heavens.

 

“It’s alright, Hanzo, I’ll just avoid the...”

 

“Don’t move Jesse, you’ll cut your feet.” Hanzo admonished in a stern tone as he handed Jesse his slippers with both hands and quickly fetched a broom to gather the ceramic. 

 

“Remove your shorts, I want to see your thigh.” Hanzo said as naturally as he would ask Jesse if he wanted tea or coffee for breakfast. 

 

“Let me close the curtains first.” Jesse said as he put on his house shoes.

 

“I’ll do it, just start undressing, I want to see if you are injured.” Hanzo insisted as he was gathering the pieces of cow adorned ceramic in a dustpan. 

 

Jesse snorted at the choice of word, walked the two steps separating him from the to the bay windows safely, now that he had his slippers on, and pressed the button that closed the curtains, slowly darkening the room. 

 

“These plates are ugly.” Hanzo finally commented once the whirring of the curtains had died down and the whole room was plunged in the dark. 

 

His arm was around Jesse’s waist. He turned around and saw Hanzo’s frown and pursed lips. He was regretting it. 

 

“Hey… I’m okay. I knew you wouldn’t like them, that’s why I hid them until we found some people who’d find them as funny as I do.” Jesse explained. “Like Tracer. Or Reinhardt. They were…” he took a deep breath. “Just something fun I picked up while shopping. Something just for me…”

 

“Then I am sorry I broke them.” Hanzo apologised again. “And I am sorry I hurt you physically.”

 

Jesse pressed himself against Hanzo. 

 

“It’s okay. Compromise ain’t easy. I mean, it took me about three days to settle on a colour.”

 

“Three days?” Hanzo asked. “When exactly did you have the time to do all this?” he stammered. 

 

“Well, painting was yesterday, as you figured, shopping was on the Internet a week before that. I picked the plates when I got to the store to retrieve the goods.” Jesse explained. “They looked damn fun… And they were placed just next to the click and collect lobby, ready to be checked in… I just couldn’t help.”

 

Hanzo’s arms tightened a bit and Jesse winced despite himself. 

 

“I am sorry, are you still hurting?”

 

“Nothing you can’t kiss away, hun.” Jesse answered. 

 

They didn’t need any light to find each other in the dark. 

 

A week later, Jesse found a pile of ceramic plates adorned with cartoonish cows between Hanzo’s piao and the brand new microwave. There was a yellow post-it note on it with Hanzo’s neat handwriting:  _ Let’s not make a habit of throwing plates. With love. _

 

The prettiest sight.

 

*

**

*

 

Their name was Jun. 

 

Hanzo was quite excited and also nervous to meet them. He had of course been given basic informations by his ex wife Masoka, but, it had been only a year upon the thirteen of their existence that Jun and their father had been in contact.

 

He had a child. _A child._

 

When Hanzo, in the state of shock that had overtaken him after his duel with Genji, had confessed to Masoka his true allegiance, she had been waiting to tell him that she was pregnant.

 

Now, she had somehow gotten wind that Hanzo and Genji Shimada had saved the world through their involvement in Overwatch, despite how discreet they tried to be. Years having passed, she was less scared. 

 

So she scheduled Hanzo and Jun a video call after several messages with Winston about Hanzo’s own state of being.

 

Hanzo had decided he would stay stoic and offer his greetings. Jun, blinking and gaping like a fish stopped the call right then and there.

 

“What have I done wrong?” He asked Jesse, who had been sitting opposite of him, out of the camera’s view, but ready to offer support.

 

“It was overwhelming for you. Imagine living that at thirteen.” He answered, his voice forever soft and grounding.

 

The next day, Hanzo heard his tablet ring with the special tune he had setup for simple voice calls. It was Jun.

 

He frantically looked around, but Jesse was here right away, his hand a reassuring weight on his waist.

 

“ _ Moshimoshi _ .” He said as he slid the icon to the green logo to accept the call.

 

“ _ Hello. _ ” It was Jun.

 

It was Jun.  _ He had a child.  _ Thirteen years ago he had a child and he did not see them born blink their eyes against the sudden brightness of the world, open their mouths and babble their first word, frown under the effort of rising to take their first step.

 

“ _ It’s me… Jun. Are you here?” _ the teenager repeated.

 

_ “Yes.”  _ Hanzo hurriedly confirmed when Jesse gave him a strong squeeze.

 

Jun apologised for her rudeness. They had been shocked about his face, how they looked alike. An answer for a question that had long stayed without an answer.

 

They finished the call knowing more about each other.  _ Did you really save the world? So you didn’t really kill your brother? Is it ok if I don’t call you dad yet? Oh, you have a boyfriend? How is he like? I don’t have a boyfriend yet. I don’t know if I want one. It depends if they like peanut or sesame mochi better, I guess. Sorry, I laugh a lot when I’m nervous. _

 

“See, I told you it was just some normal stress and apprehension.” Jesse told Hanzo, embracing him from behind and kissing his temple. 

 

“Does it not bother you?” Hanzo asked. “That I…”

 

“Hanzo, I never got to meet my own father, who am I to deny the opportunity to another to know more?” Jesse interrupted him. 

 

Hanzo couldn’t help but feel his heart soar and mechanically reached for Jesse’s arms around his ribs. 

 

“By the way…” Jesse started, clearing his throat. “Well, obviously  _ you  _ have the one... But are there any other mini-Hanzo around that you know of?”

 

“I don’t know.” Hanzo answered sincerely as Jesse trailed off. “Do  _ you _ have any children?” he asked then. 

 

“Well, I’m afraid babies aren’t made that way, hun!” Jesse chuckled. “But the idea tickled me… Actually it tickled me when we chose the house. You know. Three rooms and all that...”

 

Hanzo frowned, sensing apprehension in his heart mix with the hope. 

 

“We could indeed repurpose the library for a child. Any child.” he added. “And the office could be cleaned up too...” 

 

Jesse smiled in Hanzo’s hair. It felt nice to not have to finish one’s sentence when the words were so difficult to articulate. 

 

“I’d like that, for sure.” he breathed excitedly, his voice breaking a little under the weight of some emotion none of them exactly knew was. 

 

Adoption was hard. Mostly because of their backgrounds. Former mercenaries, one an ex-gang member and the other an ex-yakuza. Their counselor outright told them this was going to be hard… Unless they weren’t, quote, picky, end quote. 

 

“We’re mostly looking for someone to look after, aren’t we, hun?” Jesse asked in between meetings as they were given a sheet with their  _ preferences _ . Hanzo noticed how green he looked when his eyes locked on the actual word.

 

“I think protecting those who can’t protect themselves is the most important part of adoption, indeed.” Hanzo agreed. 

 

He had preferences, but no child ever chose the place and family they were born into. Thus, they shouldn’t have any right to chose either, he thought. Without a word, but still carrying the weight of mutual agreement, both men signed the Adoption Request papers leaving the “preferences” page spotless. Their counsellor gave them a thumbs up as they left. 

 

“They still think we did it as a strategy.” Jesse commented as the inspectors visited their home. 

 

Only ten minutes earlier, they had been interviewed separately. Hanzo had been nervous. Jesse had showed them the cow plates and Hanzo had been reminded of the day he had hurt him, hurling the ceramic discs his way. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he should be near a child.

 

While Hanzo’s gut was twisting, Jesse had been checking every power outlet, every safety they put on appliances and shown the inspectors around the garden he had started to grow tomatoes in. They were still in bloom, the yellow flowers not yet having sprouted the familiar looking bulbous fruits.

 

Hanzo had been amazed that such rough hands, used to wielding firearms and fight had been able to tend to such life. What had he done with his hands recently? Hanzo didn’t know. 

 

The inspector left, giving Hanzo one last once over before leaving, after saying they would know if they had the adoption agreement soon. 

 

“An adoption agreement however only means you can adopt.” the inspector insisted. 

 

Hanzo and Jesse had shook their heads. They were already familiar with the particularity of European adoption. 

Still…

 

Hanzo worried. Sometimes, he dreamt of those plates, except, instead of the thigh, he hit the head. Instead of Jesse, he hit a baby whose face suspiciously looked like his. It took him three days and a video call from Jun to admit to himself he had been having nightmares about hurting a child. 

 

“ _ Are you nervous about the adoption? _ ” Jun asked this day. 

 

“ _ Yes, I am. _ ” Hanzo admitted. “ _ All projects of this nature bring nervousness. Taking care of a family is very hard and busy work. _ ”

 

“ _ Would you have been nervous if… If Mom hadn’t left and you were both expecting me? _ ”

 

Hanzo sincerely did not know the answer to this question. 

 

“ _ I think nervous parents make the best parents. _ ” Jun exclaimed, sounding nervous herself. “ _ Because then, they get prepared and they won’t make the same mistake twice either, since they’re so worried of doing it again... _ ”

 

Hanzo felt a knot untangle in his heart. This night as he lay in Jesse’s warm embrace, he asked the question out loud: 

 

“Did it scare you… When I threw your cowplates at you?” he asked. 

 

Jesse took a deep breath. 

 

“Well, considering we had just saved the world from way more dangerous threats…”

 

“I threw plates at you.” Hanzo interrupted him. “This can also be considered domestic violence…”

 

Trailing off, feeling bile rise to his throat he asked again. 

 

“How did you feel?” 

 

“Well… Alarmed. Worried, maybe. And yes, had I not been on a scuffles and battlefields on a daily basis since I was about fifteen and able to put up a real fight, maybe win it, well, maybe I’d be afraid, yeah.”

 

“I’m so sorry…” Hanzo repeated, feeling his heart squeeze. His hands too were tightening around Jesse. For a second, Hanzo felt like moving them away, but he fought against himself. 

 

“It happened such a long time ago, you said we wouldn’t make a habit of it, I believe you and we didn’t fight again.” Jesse said, taking his hand. “We’re good… Or are you worried you might hurt someone else?”

 

Hanzo took a deep breath. 

 

“I don’t have the best of records, do I?” he simply said, bitterness spreading to his tongue. 

 

Jesse turned to his side and suddenly, Hanzo remembered why they were together. 

 

Jesse was sweet. McCree was harsh and dry like the desert. Judge, Jury and sometimes Executioner. Truth oozed from his gaze as he held Hanzo’s jaw in his rough palm. 

 

“You’re not perfect. But you’re doing your best. You’re not going to be a bad father, Hanzo.” McCree said before he turned to his other side and started to draw even breaths. Fake sleeping. He did that when he was upset. It always made Hanzo feel strange, craving his touch and his voice. 

 

He didn’t seem angry, just annoyed, maybe. Hanzo tentatively spooned his partner and was relieved when he wasn’t shrugged off. Just annoyed then.

 

The worry wasn’t gone. He just thought of it less. 

 

*

**

*

 

The counsellor confirmed: this was going extremely fast considering their backgrounds. However, the inspector found nothing remiss and there was a child with had special needs the Foundation for Child Protection thought the two former  _ warriors _ , as they tactfully put, could help with. 

 

She was quite tall and lanky, like most teenagers were at her age. It seemed the last few good meals she had while waiting in the local shelter for orphans made her burst enough that she sported several stretch marks on her bare biceps. In the sun, her tan skin made them look whiter. Her brown hair was cut short haphazardly, as if she had simply chopped them off with a knife. When she saw the two men opening the door, her dark eyes turned wide as saucers. 

 

A refugee and a survivor. Her name was Mina. 

 

“She reminds me of Fareeha when she was little.” Jesse commented after an exhausting first day. 

 

A liaison had stayed with them and gave them a rundown of the few important phrases to know in Algerian Sign Language. Hanzo had been upset because he had bought the first books available in the nearest bookstore which covered French and Spanish. He hadn’t thought at all about the rest.  

 

“Don’t worry, you can use the French one.” the woman accompanying Mina said, “as it’s very similar, except for its slang, of course…”

 

Jesse knew Hanzo wasn’t at all reassured by the way his brow creased when he thanked the kind lady who, for now, handled most of the translation. 

 

Mina seemed to feel safe enough to gape at Hanzo all the time. Jesse understood her well, he too could never tire of watching his man, but he wondered if there was an explanation behind it. Guess he’d have to learn more sign language. 

 

If asked a question, Mina would sometimes sign with her hands very close to her chest, something that struck Jesse as something a shy person would do. Still, he was very proud he could ask her age and understand her answer. As basic as it was, Jesse asked his ward himself about her age and now knew she was twelve, soon to turn thirteen. 

 

It appeared quite quickly that Mina hadn’t been around adults at all for a long long time. Jesse being at home most of the time with his gardening occupations could see it. She reminded him of himself at the same age. Restless, she often paced anywhere she could do so, especially when she was done reading the age appropriate books Hanzo had left in her room and some more written in languages Mina's file was said to know how to read. Algerian, English, some French. 

 

Except, Jesse had no idea what he could do to make her feel more comfortable, more at home. He decided to buy her a game system. Couldn’t hurt. 

 

Instead of pacing, Mina played. Jesse soon regretted it seeing how deep she could dive into the world of video games sometimes. Hanzo noticed too and frowned when he saw her gaming early in the morning when leaving for work and late in the day when coming back. 

 

“Is she even seeking you out for company?” Hanzo asked after they sent Mina to place their dishes into the washer. 

 

“Nah.” Jesse answered. “Unless it’s to talk about video games… She can't stop yammering about it... Well, I played it and we can bond over it for a while, but changing subjects just makes her stop signing and go for the controller.”

 

Jesse sighed. 

 

“I’m quite worried. We had agreed upon sending her to school in September, but…” he trailed of. 

 

Hanzo frowned. Jesse knew that frown and suddenly, he was scared. Really scared. 

 

“I have an idea. I am not sure it is even feasible, but…”

Hanzo looked particularly annoyed or pissed. At what, Jesse didn’t know. He made several calls in Japanese early in the morning. Jesse wondered how he managed to look exactly like he did when he first joined Overwatch when they were living the normal day to day lives of a couple with an adopted teenager. 

 

Aloof, distant, he seemed to avoid Mina as well. 

 

Until one day when, suddenly, Hanzo took all of his rest days at once and transformed the office into a second bedroom, something they had put off for a while. 

 

“So, you’re inviting Jun?” Jesse asked as they brushed their teeth. “Is that your plan? Because for a second, I thought you were going to call the Dragons on her or something...”

 

Hanzo abruptly turned to Jesse, his mouth still full of paste. He was quite quick to take his glass of water and spray the other man with its contents. 

 

Jesse chuckled around his toothbrush as Hanzo refilled his glass and rinsed his mouth.

 

“Yes, I was about to tell you before we went to bed.” Hanzo answered as Jesse dried himself. “How the heck did you come to think about the Dragons?”

 

Jesse liked how Hanzo adopted some of his own colloquialisms over time. 

 

“Well, you were frowning all the time. You went into hiding a lot. You were on the phone speaking Japanese aplenty and Mina stopped her silent treatment and asked me if something was wrong with you.” he explained. 

 

He had been quite happy to speak with Mina of Hanzo. First because he could wax poetic about the man’s qualities for a solid hour before the discussion became non suitable for children and second, because he had been allowed a glimpse of Mina’s thoughts. 

 

She had asked if the Dragons were real. Jesse had provided an answer and asked if she had seen them in the viral holovid of a few years back in their Sahara mission. However, Mina had suddenly taken the game controller again and focused on the television screen. 

 

Even as the months went by, she still didn’t speak to Hanzo, even as he spoke to her normally, his sign language way better than Jesse’s. Usually, Mina would turn to Jesse and sign toward him instead to answer. If it troubled Hanzo, he had shown no sign of it. 

 

Actually, that too was worrying, coming from the man who had been so scared of hurting a child and so remorseful at having hurt him. 

 

When Jun came, they brought a lot of freshness into their home. Upon entering, they offered Jesse a manga about a young Japanese man charmed by a cowboy during a year spent abroad as a sabbatical of sorts. It was corny as hell, but Jesse had a good laugh reading it in bed. He even recognised the cover as the translation of another little Japanese comic Hanzo had in his own library. He smiled.

 

Jun had then been presented to Mina and both started to sign almost immediately and made their way to the living room to play console games. 

 

Jesse smacked his head. 

 

“You gave your child Mina’s gamertag, right?” Jesse asked as Hanzo watched over the two kids like a hawk. 

 

“Yes.” Hanzo admitted. “They don’t exactly play the same games, but… Youngsters of their age need friends they can relate to before they can even open up to us…”

 

“Does Mina know?” Jesse ask. 

 

“That’s the first thing Jun wrote in the friend request.” Hanzo snorted. 

 

Instead of derision, his snort was full of some particular brand of pride that always made Jesse chuckle. He carefully sneaked his arm around Hanzo’s waist. 

 

“Well… Meeting people her age and bonding… What am I gonna do when we finally send her to school…” the stay at home dad lamented. 

 

“About that…” Hanzo started. “I was thinking of homeschooling her for the first year. I don’t think she’s going to be quite ready…”

 

“And I think you worry too much.” Jesse answered, kissing Hanzo’s cheek. 

 

“I’m just trying to be reasonable…”

 

“Sure thang, hun…” Jesse said as he heard a strange wheezing sound that startled him. 

 

Both men looked pointedly at Mina whose shoulders shook. It took a superhuman effort for them not to move. Jun’s own laugh started, peals of high pitched laughter. Both men let out deep matching breaths. 

 

In honor of Mina’s first laughter where they could hear, Hanzo started to prepare pancakes while Jesse went out to get soda and sweets. 

 

This evening, it took a lot of coaxing to pry the kids from their game, especially given the amount of sugar they had ingested in the span of eight hours. Hanzo prepared them a light dinner of soup and salad and Mina proposed to watch a movie. Jesse put it on and Mina and Jun sat close, respectively squinting at the English subtitles for different reasons. 

 

The first casualty was Jun. Jesse realised that they had not taken jet lag into account when he found their head resting heavily against his arm. Shifting to try to make them more comfortable, Jesse spied a movement of hands to his left. 

 

The shy and discreet signs exchanged between Hanzo and Mina were a start. Jesse, who dared not look, lest he was noticed and he broke the moment. He spied a  _ thank you _ and a  _ Dragon _ .

 

At the end of the movie, Hanzo went to carry Jun, but Jesse tutted. 

 

“Just… Stay with Mina, it's alright.” he said with a small smile he wanted to be understanding. 

 

Hanzo nodded and sat back down as Jesse carried the teenager and climbed the stairs. 

 

Jesse carefully removed the special slippers Hanzo had bought for the kid and placed the blanket over their still clothed form. Watching them sleep, undisturbed, he couldn’t help but think this day was perfect. 

 

Hanzo and Mina were brushing their teeth when he exited the old office now a guest room. Mina’s eyes were especially puffy and so were Hanzo’s. Mina signed them both a good night before closing the door to her own room. 

 

“Your plan worked perfectly, hun.” Jesse commented and they slipped beneath their own covers. “I feel bad for letting Jun get carried away, though… Guess they’ll sleep tomorrow away.”

 

“Mina seemed happy to have Jun around and so did they.” Hanzo admitted. 

 

The frown. It was still here. Jesse kissed his lover’s brow and shot him a dazzling grin that made it go away. 

 

“Mina she… She was in Sebdu. During the Sahara Operation…” Hanzo told Jesse. “I didn’t remember her. There were so many children there…” 

 

Jesse’s heart squeezed. Was that what they mean when they said Mina could use their help?

 

“She saw the Dragons. The display panicked the forces occupying the city, but a lot of the other kids made a run for it, some of them carrying the younger, regardless of kinship.” Hanzo continued. 

 

“That’s where we found 'em, running toward the desert. Rounded 'em up.” Jesse recalled. He tried to remember, but it was too hard. It was five years ago, Mina would have been seven or something. “Brought 'em to the local authorities.”

 

“Most of them managed to find relatives, even outside the city, but in Mina’s case… Her family, much like the Amari, had a long standing military career tradition. She was staying with an older relative, retired. He tried to defend her… Died trying to protect her.” Hanzo said. “It was… She didn’t say much of what happened during the occupation, but… You remember...”

 

“Yes.” Jesse growled. It made him sick that his baby girl had been forced to live this. His little girl...

 

“Anyway, she said she remembered me the best because… Because she had thought the Dragons sent from Heaven, I think she said... And upon seeing my tattoo then, she had understood they came from me.” Hanzo continued. “She said she had always regretted not being able to say thank you. She thought it was a dream when she managed to come to Europe alone in the stream of other refugees and then meeting us again. _Meeting me_.”

 

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Jesse. How Mina stared at Hanzo all the time. 

 

“She looks up to ya, hun.” Jesse concluded. He laughed. “Told you you couldn't be a bad father.”

 

His hand sneaked again underneath Hanzo’s pajamas and Jesse left a soft kiss on his stomach, making Hanzo shiver and let out a throaty laugh in turn. 

 

When they woke up, realising they had fallen asleep in the middle of kisses and caresses without even reaching second base, they got up and started to throw each other good natured jibes on their age and faltering stamina. 

  
This was a beautiful day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, we did fall asleep quite pathetically in the middle of _something_ after a long day of watching over my SO's hyperactive nephews and niece. We still laugh about it sometimes. 
> 
> Also when both partners work, you realise that you're really communicating a looooot of stuff in the bathroom during the before bed routine. I edited out a part where Hanzo finishes brushing his teeth first, stares at Jesse in the mirror for too long and they meet each other's reflected gaze and spontaneously laugh, making McCree sputter toothpaste everywhere. It was starting to get long. 
> 
> I was heavily inspired by music, specifically Steevie ray Vaughan's verion of Pride and Joy and Finnish band Leevi and The Leavings' song Onnelliset.


End file.
